‘No, you can’t,’ I say.
‘Why don’t you just SHUT UP!?’ she says.
‘Why don’t YOU shut up?’ I say.
‘Because I said it first,’ says Jen.
‘So,’ I say. ‘I said it last.’
Jen puts her fingers in her ears and starts yelling.
‘SHUT UP!’ she yells. ‘SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!’
I grab one of her hands and pull it away from her ear.
‘YOU shut up,’ I say.
‘Would you BOTH shut up!’ says Dad.
‘I’m trying to read the newspaper!’
There is a loud clap of thunder, a flash of lightning and then a fresh downpour of heavy rain.
This is the worst holiday we’ve ever been on.
We’ve been trapped in this caravan for a week now and it’s rained every single day.
There is a burst of loud laughter from the caravan next to us.
‘Oh great!’ yells a shrill voice. ‘I just won second prize in a beauty contest!’
‘The judges must have been blind!’ says another voice, followed by more laughter.
‘Shut up!’ laughs the shrill voice.
They’re playing Monopoly. Again. They play it all the time. When they’re not playing Scrabble, that is. Or Trivial Pursuit. Or Twister. All they do is play games and have fun. They’re really getting on my nerves.
‘Hey, why don’t WE play a game?’ says Mum.
‘We don’t have any,’ says Jen. ‘Andy forgot to pack them. One simple job to do and he couldn’t even do that. Hopeless.’
‘Shut up,’ I say.
‘YOU shut up,’ says Jen.
Another thunderclap rocks the caravan.
‘We can still play a game,’ says Mum. ‘How about I Spy?’
Jen groans.
I groan.
‘What’s wrong with I Spy?’ says Mum.
‘It’s BORING,’ I say.
‘But you used to love it!’ says Mum.
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘when I was about two years old.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ says Mum. ‘You couldn’t even talk when you were two.’
‘Those were the days,’ says Dad from behind his newspaper.
Jen laughs.
‘Shut up, Jen,’ I say.
‘YOU shut up,’ says Jen.
‘I spy with my little eye,’ says Mum loudly, ‘something beginning with C.’
I look around. This will be easy. Mum’s ‘I spies’ are always so lame.
‘Caravan,’ I say.
‘Very good, Andy,’ says Mum. ‘Got it in one.’
‘All right!’ I say. ‘I win! I’m the winner! The best! The greatest! The champion! Did you hear that, Jen? I WON!’
Jen rolls her eyes. ‘Grow up!’ she says.
‘And you LOST,’ I say. ‘That makes ME better than YOU!’
‘It does not,’ she says.
‘Yes, it does!’ I say.
‘Just shut up,’ she says, ‘and have your turn.’
‘I spy with my little eye,’ I say, ‘something beginning with SL—SORE LOSER.’
‘Tell him to shut up, Mum,’ says Jen.
‘Andy,’ says Mum, ‘are you going to have your turn or not?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I spy with my little eye, something beginning with E.’
The rain drums down hard on the roof while Jen and Mum look around the caravan.
‘Eggs?’ says Jen, staring at the remains of our breakfast on the table.
‘Sort of,’ I say, ‘but not quite.’
‘Egg cups?’ says Mum.
‘Sort of,’ I say, ‘but not quite.’
‘Egg shells?’ says Jen.
‘Hmmm,’ I say. ‘Sort of, but not quite.’
‘Egg carton?’ says Mum.
‘There is no egg carton,’ I say.
‘There was though,’ says Mum.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘but you can’t see it now, can you? Why would I say I can see something that I can’I&see?’
‘It’s never stopped you before,’ says Jen.
‘Shut up,’ I say.
‘You shut up,’ says Jen.
‘Come on you two,’ says Mum. ‘Don’t spoil the fun.’
There is another crack of thunder and the drumming on the roof gets louder.
Dad looks up from his newspaper.
‘Is that hail?’ he says.
I push back the little curtain and look out.
‘No,’ I say. ‘Just more rain.’
‘Egg head,’ says Jen.
‘Egg head?’ I say. ‘I can’t see an egg head.’
‘It’s right there on top of your neck,’ says Jen.
‘I do not have an egg head!’ I say. ‘Do I Mum?’
‘Well,’ says Mum, studying my head closely. ‘It is a little oval-shaped, dear.’
‘IT IS NOT!’ I say. ‘Anyway, it’s not egg head! Can we move on?’
‘We give up,’ says Jen.
‘You can’t give up,’ I say. ‘You only just started.’
Jen sighs. ‘I bet this is a stupid one,’ she says. ‘Like “air” or something.’
I shake my head.
‘It’s not stupid,’ I say. I promise.’
‘Well it better not be,’ says Jen.
‘Just guess,’ I say.
‘Eyes,’ says Jen.
‘No,’ I say. ‘How could it be eyes—that doesn’t even start with E.’
‘Yes, it does,’ says Jen.
‘It doesn’t,’ I say. ‘It starts with I.’ Jen laughs.
‘Eyes!’ she says. ‘E-Y-E-S.’
Oops.
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I thought you said ice.’
‘You did not,’ says Jen. ‘You can’t spell!’
‘I can so,’ I say. ‘Can’t I, Mum?’
‘Well, dear,’ says Mum. ‘You’re coming along really well, but you did only get one out of twenty on your last spelling test.’
Jen starts chanting. ‘Andy can’t spe-ell! Andy can’t spe-ell!’
‘Shut up,’ I say.
‘YOU shut up!’ says Jen.
‘No, YOU shut up!’ I say.
‘Eyebrows,’ says Mum.
‘No.’
‘Eyelashes,’ says Jen.
‘No.’
‘Elephant?’ says Mum.
Poor Mum. She’s really not very good at this game.
‘No,’ I say. ‘How could it be elephant?’
‘It could be an ectoplasmic elephant,’ says Jen.
‘Now you’re just being stupid,’ I say. ‘There’s no such thing as an ectoplasmic elephant, and even if there was, I can’t see one in here.’
‘Of course not, you drop kick,’ says Jen. “Ectoplasmic” means “like a ghost”. An ectoplasmic elephant would be invisible. So how could you see one anyway?’
‘No, Jen,’ I say, ‘if it’s invisible, the question is how could YOU see it?’
‘Because I’m psychic,’ says Jen.
‘Oh, like a witch,’ I say. ‘That would explain the wart on the end of your nose.’
‘I don’t have a wart on the end of my nose,’ says Jen.
‘Oh I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘That disgusting growth on your face IS your nose. My apologies.’
‘Shut up,’ says Jen.
‘You shut up,’ I say.
‘I give up,’ says Mum.
‘Me too,’ says Jen.
‘What about you, Dad?’ I say.
‘He wasn’t even playing,’ says Jen.
‘Yeah, but he still has to give up.’
‘I gave up years ago,’ says Dad from behind his paper.
‘All right then,’ I say. ‘Looks like I win again.’
‘What was the answer?’ says Jen.
‘Everything,’ I say.
‘But that’s stupid!’ splutters Jen. ‘You can’t just say “everything”. You’re supposed to do it in detail!’
‘I did,’ I say. ‘Everything in the caravan. How much more detail
can you get?’
Jen looks like she’s about to explode.
‘I think I can spy something beginning with SL again,’ I say.
‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with I,’ she says. ‘Give up? Idiot!’
There’s another huge burst of laughter from the caravan next door.
‘Mum,’ I say. ‘Jen just called me an idiot.’
‘I did not,’ says Jen. ‘I didn’t CALL him an idiot. I just said I could SEE an idiot.’
‘You were looking right at me when you said “idiot”,’ I say.
‘I’m sure she didn’t really mean it,’ says Mum.
‘You always take her side,’ I say. ‘She’s your favourite.’
‘No, she’s not,’ says Mum.
‘Oh good,’ I say, making a face at Jen. ‘Then that means I must be your favourite.’
‘No,’ says Mum. ‘I don’t have a favourite. I love you both equally.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘but if you had to choose, you’d choose ME wouldn’t you?’
‘But I don’t have to choose,’ says Mum.
‘But you’d choose me if you did,’ I say. ‘That’s what you’re saying isn’t it?’
‘I’m not saying anything of the sort,’ says Mum. ‘I’m just saying that I don’t have to choose.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘but what if you did?’
‘But I don’t,’ says Mum.
‘But you might!’ I say. ‘Just imagine that it’s the middle of the night, right? And me and Jen are asleep in the caravan. I’m up one end, and Jen’s up the other.’
‘And in the middle there’s a big cloud of your burp gas,’ says Jen.
‘Shut up,’ I say.
‘You shut up,’ she says.
‘What’s the point of this exactly, Andy?’ says Mum.
‘I’m just trying to find out, once and for all, which one of us is your favourite,’ I say. ‘Anyway, it’s the middle of the night, and Jen and me are in the caravan, and you and Dad have just come back ...’
‘Where have we been?’ says Mum.
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘You’ve been out ... to a restaurant or something.’
Mum frowns. ‘But we wouldn’t go out and just leave you here alone.’
‘Yes, we would,’ says Dad, rustling his paper. ‘In fact let’s do it right now.’
‘Very funny, Dad,’ I say, ‘but being serious for a moment, you’ve just come home and ...’
‘I’m sorry, Andy,’ says Mum, ‘but your father and I would not just go out and leave you both here alone. It would be irresponsible.’
‘Well, okay, you’ve taken the washing across to the laundry.’
‘In the middle of the night?’ says Mum.
‘It’s really dirty washing,’ I say. ‘It’s urgent.’
‘Oh, you mean like you wet the bed again and they have to wash the sheets?’ says Jen.
‘Shut up,’ I say.
‘Why don’t you shut up?’ she says.
‘Is there a point to this, Andy?’ says Mum.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘The point is, that you and Dad leave the caravan, for whatever reason, and you come back, and it’s on fire!’
‘In this rain?’ says Dad. ‘It would more likely be flooded.’
‘Just suppose the rain has stopped and the caravan is on fire,’ I say.
‘Why is it on fire?’ says Mum.
‘It just IS,’ I say.
‘Probably all your burp gas,’ says Jen. ‘It’s flammable you know.’
‘Shut up about my burp gas,’ I say.
‘YOU shut up,’ says Jen.
I reply with a deep throaty belch. ‘You shut up ...’ I say, burping my words, ‘times infinity more than whatever you say!’
‘You shut up times infinity to the power of ten,’ says Jen.
‘You can’t do that,’ I say.
‘I just did!’ says Jen.
‘Infinity is infinite. It’s already bigger than infinity to the power of ten,’ I say, ‘so I win.’
‘But I haven’t shut up, have I?’ says Jen. ‘So you lose.’
She’s got a point, but I’m not going to admit it. It’s probably best to ignore her. She can be very immature.
A blast of heavy wind rocks the caravan.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘It’s probably just a tornado.’
‘I think you’re right,’ says Jen. ‘Why don’t you go outside and check?’
‘Shut up!’ I say.
‘You shut up!’ says Jen.
Dad clears his throat and lowers his newspaper. ‘Actually,’ he says, looking very serious, ‘I have a confession to make. I started the fire.’
‘What fire?’ says Mum.
‘The fire in the caravan,’ says Dad.
‘Why would you do a thing like that?’ says Mum.
‘Because I couldn’t stand the bickering a moment longer,’ says Dad. ‘All I want to do is to read my newspaper in peace! Is that asking too much?’
‘No,’ says Mum. ‘But you didn’t have to burn the caravan down!’
‘Ignore him, Mum,’ I say. ‘The important thing is that you’ve come back to the caravan—from wherever you were for whatever reason—and the caravan is on fire—for whatever reason, it’s not really important—and me and Jen are in the caravan—me up one end and Jen up the other end ...’
‘Don’t forget the big cloud of burp gas in between,’ says Jen.
‘Shut up,’ I say.
You shut up, she says.
‘And you’ve only got time to save one of us, right?’ I say to Mum. ‘So, who would you save? Me—your great, wonderful, kind, generous, loving, irreplaceable son? Or Jen?’
Ha! I’ve got her now. She’s going to have to choose! And who she chooses will reveal once and for all who her favourite child is, and maybe this whole stupid week trapped in a caravan will have been some use after all.
Mum frowns. She bites her lip. ‘I’ve only got time to save one of you?’ she says.
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Just one question,’ she says.
‘What is it?’ I say.
‘Where’s Sooty?’
‘Sooty?’ I say. ‘He’s not even here!’
‘I know that,’ says Mum, ‘but if he was, where would he be?’
‘Probably on MY bed,’ I say, ‘after all, I AM his favourite.’
‘Are not,’ says Jen.
‘Are so,’ I say.
‘Andy just called me a REALLY rude word, Mum,’ says Jen.
‘Shut up, Jen,’ says Mum. ‘I’m getting very tired of your constant dobbing.’
Jen’s eyes open wide. Her mouth is open wide too. She is so shocked that she can hardly speak.
‘Yeah,’ I say, smirking, ‘shut up, Jen.’
‘And you shut up too, Andy,’ says Mum. ‘I’m trying to concentrate.’
‘Yeah,’ says Jen. ‘Shut up, Andy.’
Mum shoots Jen a warning look.
‘Sorry, Mum,’ I say, poking my tongue out at Jen.
Mum stares at the roof of the caravan.
‘I think,’ she says, ‘all things considered, that I would save ... Sooty.’
‘Huh?’ I say. ‘You’d save the dog? Over one of us? But why?’
‘Well,’ says Mum, ‘because Sooty is a poor defenceless innocent little animal. He doesn’t deserve to die.’
It’s clear that Mum doesn’t know Sooty very well. But that’s beside the point.
‘But what about ME?’ I say. ‘I’m a poor, defenceless, innocent little boy. And I’m your son!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ says Mum.
‘I’m not your son?’ I say.
‘We wish,’ says a muffled voice from behind the newspaper.
‘I always KNEW you weren’t REALLY my brother,’ says Jen. ‘I’m SO happy!’
‘Shut up, Jen,’ I say.
‘You shut up,’ she says. ‘Whoever you are!’
‘Both of you shut up,’ says Mum. ‘I’m not sa
ying you’re not my son, Andy. I’m just saying you’re not a poor, defenceless, innocent little boy. And Jen’s not a poor, defenceless, innocent little girl. You both know where the door is. You could save yourselves. But Sooty might panic and not know what to do. So I’d save him.’
‘But while you’re down my end of the caravan, you’d save me as well, wouldn’t you?’ I say.
‘But you said I could only save one,’ she says. ‘And I can’t carry both of you.’
‘But if you could, you’d save me of course,’ I say. ‘Which settles the matter. I MUST be your favourite.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ says Mum.
‘So it must be ME,’ says Jen.
‘I haven’t said that, either,’ says Mum.
Now it’s my turn to chant. ‘You’re not Mum’s fave-rit! You’re not Mum’s fave-rit!’
‘Shut up,’ says Jen. ‘Neither are you.’ ‘You shut up!’ I say. ‘Both of you shut up!’ says Mum. Suddenly Dad jumps to his feet. ‘Shut up the lot of you!’ he says. ‘I’m trying to read the newspaper!!!’
‘Why don’t YOU shut up!’ says Mum. ‘HEY!’ calls a voice from the next caravan. ‘Why don’t you ALL shut up in there!’
Dad jumps to his feet and jerks open the door. ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ he yells above the storm. ‘Why don’t YOU loudmouths shut up instead?!’
‘Don’t you tell MY family to shut up,’ yells back the voice.
‘Well, then, don’t tell MY family to shut up!’ yells Dad.
‘Fine!’ yells the voice. ‘How about YOU shut up then!’
‘I’ve got a better idea!’ yells Dad. ‘How about YOU shut up ... TIMES INFINITY MORE THAN WHATEVER YOU SAY!’
There’s no response from the other caravan—they must know that there’s no use continuing the argument now that Dad’s played the infinity card. Whoever it is they’re obviously a lot smarter than Jen.
‘Good one, Dad!’ I say.
Dad turns around.
‘Shut up, Andy,’ he says quietly and then he walks down the two little steps, out into the rain, still clutching his newspaper.
‘Where are you going?’ says Mum.
‘To read my newspaper,’ says Dad. ‘In peace!’
‘But it’s pouring out there,’ says Mum.
‘I’m well aware of that, dear,’ says Dad.
Just Disgusting! Page 5
